Sophia barely slept that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Marco’s massive hand wrapped around her throat. She could still hear Dante’s low voice calling her wet. She could still see Luca’s hungry smirk as he watched her fall apart from the lightest touch.
By the time her next scheduled session with the Rossi brothers came around, she was a nervous wreck. She had changed her blouse three times, telling herself it was just because the others were wrinkled. Deep down she knew she was lying.
When she arrived at their block, the atmosphere was different. Heavier. The three brothers were waiting like predators who had already tasted blood.
Marco spoke first, voice rough. “You came back.”
“I’m doing my job,” Sophia replied, trying to sound professional. But her voice came out
